


When You Love Legion

by OmniNom



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: All Legion Memebers are 19+, F/F, F/M, Gen, I know she's canonically younger but in my fics all the killers are 18 or up, Legion Is A Hivemind, M/M, Multi, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Reader is gender neutral, Reader is not a Killer, Reader is not a Survivor, Reader-Insert, Susie is the youngest at 19, Tags May Change, for now, sort of a slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:48:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26508499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OmniNom/pseuds/OmniNom
Summary: Acting as neither Killer or Survior, you act as a witness to the Entity's trials. Some envy you for this, while others spite you and turn you away. With this, you feel an ever-increasing loneliness that refuses to fade. However, you find comfort in the company of a group of friends who long forgot what it felt like to be completely human. Will your neutrality drive them away, or attract them like bees to a delicate, dying flower?
Relationships: Frank (Dead by Daylight)/Reader, Joey (Dead by Daylight)/Reader, Joey/Julie/Frank Morrison/Susie/Reader, Julie (Dead by Daylight)/Reader, Susie (Dead by Daylight)/Reader
Comments: 18
Kudos: 102





	1. I : Take Hold

**Author's Note:**

> So, just a note, Reader is neither a Survivor or Killer. This is a concept I'm playing with for now, but the Entity needs another party to act as a "witness" of sorts, taking no sides or favorites. Until they do ;D  
> Also! My take on Legion is that instead of being somewhat transformed like the other killers, they were mentally/emotionally changed. They act as a Hivemind half of the time, knowing what the others are thinking and feeling. Which is why they move/act the same in trials! :D  
> Anyways, enjoy!

It's big a long day.

Or so you would say if anyone could actually tell the time in this godforsaken hellhole.

You actually don't quite remember when you first appeared in the Entity's realm. It had been long after the first to arrive, and long before the last to enter.

The memories of your old life had long since faded. Or perhaps you never had one, to begin with. The Entity had ways to play with the mind; with memory and thoughts. Well, as far as you were concerned, the realm was all you knew. Would there be anything waiting for you, if you were to go back to the old world? Family? Friends? A partner? Children, or a pet perhaps?

Perhaps those kinds of things were best left forgotten. The grief of losing precious loved ones was enough to drive someone mad, without the outlying threat having to face a trial and failing, and being punished.

But you were one of the lucky ones.

Or that's what you'd like to think.

Being the only individual in the Entity's realm to exist without having to participate in the trial in any shape or form could be a blessing or a curse. Surely, not having to deal with the survivor's pain of being hunted, maimed, and hooked (or _worse)_ wouldn't be so bad. But you were an outcast who could have considered you their peer.

Many of the survivors disliked the fact that you didn't have to undergo the trials.

On the other hand, being a Killer wasn't as easy as the slashers made it seem. Infuriating taunts on the survivors' behalves, skull-splitting head slams from those rickety old palettes, and who knows were kind of brutal punishments they faced after _failing_ to kill any survivors during a routine trial?

But even then, many of the Killers turned you away. You definitely weren't one of them, they knew that for a fact. You didn't have the build to be a killer, or the drive to chase survivors down until their dying breath. They scoffed at the sheer idea of acknowledging a regular human that they couldn't beat down and hook up. And you hardly ever got the chance to speak for them very long, before the fog rolled in and dumped them into another tedious trial.

Needless to say, your friends were few and far between.

However, you were optimistic. You hadn't met _everyone_ that was pressed under the Entity's thumb yet.

So how does a social pariah such as yourself spend their time, all on their lonesome?

Well...

While you didn't take part in trials, the Entity was _very_ accomodating in gifts. You would find items while exploring different realms, while their inhabitants were away or otherwise busy.

You would find blank drawing books in the charred ruins of Springwoods' Badham Preschool that you would sketch in for hours. The Nightmare was gone, more often than not, but you would hear him tinkering away in that old workshop of his, far below the surface of the concrete streets on the rare occasion. Sometimes you would lose the book you would be doodling in, but they had ways of finding you.

At first you thought it was the Entity itself, returning the drawings you had so recklessly forgotten. But there had been times you had found just the slightest cuts in the edges of the spine and pages that indicated that some kind of claw had taken hold of the object.

Then you would find old sewing tools in the Red Forest. No matter if it was in the Priestess's Temple of Purgation, or the Huntress' Mother's Dwelling; you had a way of collecting needles and pins and fabrics that allowed you to practice your skill in sewing and design. You had recently become more adept in creating stuffed toys, yet it was growing more difficult to find the appropriate material to stuff them with. That isn't to say you didn't know how to make clothes- quite the contrary. Unlike the old drawing book, however, sometimes these clothes had a way of finding Survivors and Killers, and you would be delighted at how well it suited them.

And though you had yet to run into either the quiet Huntress or the graceful Priestess, you had a feeling they knew of your presence in their realm. Nonetheless, you made sure to return your tools right back where you found them. They weren't _completely_ your's to take, after all.

The Grave of Glendale was a nice change of scenery. The Gunslinger was typically off toying with another one of his gadgets when you would sit yourself in the bar of the Dead Dawg Saloon, right at the piano to fiddle with the keys. Just like any of these past hobbies, you didn't start off well. Your drawings had looked like a child's attempt at art, many pieces of fabric had been tossed aside when you pricked yourself with a needle one too many times, and the keys of the old piano more resembled the sound of a screeching animal than anything else.

But you learn.

You would travel to the saloon more while the Gunslinger was busy with trials. After scavenging through many of the books in Silent Hill's Midwich Elementary School, you had found basic notes and books in teaching oneself how to read music. It difficult to pick up, like many skills were when you first picked them up. But the longer you went at it, the better it sounded. Now, when you played, it sounded like an actual tune. More recently, you've found the Gunslinger in the corner of your eye, leaning against a doorframe to listen in on your playing.

You have been lucky thus far that you had only traveled to the more passive of the Killers' realms in search of entertainment.

 ~~Ahem, that is to say, the Nightmare is by no means passive, he just didn't really give a shit what people did~~.

But, ah, yes, back to the matter at hand.

_It's been a long day._

Or so you would say if you could tell time.

But fuck that, it _felt_ like a long day.

As recently stated, you had been lucky enough to not traverse through any of the territorial Killers' territories yet. You know who liked their privacy, their little worlds, all to themselves, and who just _didn't_ like trespassers.

For example, The Trapper had his MacMillian Estate and the Wraith had it's Autohaven Wreckers. The difference being that the Wraith was mostly passive, and his realm didn't offer much more than mechanical tools and practice in automechanics. The Trapper, meanwhile, was aggressive and typically kept unwanted visitors out with blockades of crates and creaking iron. Not that his realm had much else to offer, either.

Everytime a new realm emerged, you made sure to give it a once over, checking it out and seeing what you could use for your entertainment. At this point, you had explored most of the worlds the Killers retreated to after they were done with their trials. With few exceptions suchs as Haddonfield, the Backwater Swamp, the Gideon Meat Plant, Mount Ormond, and...

The Hawkins National Laboratory.

Well.

That last one was officially off the list.

However, being chased down by the Demogorgon had not been the experience you were banking on happening today.

You had simply wandered in, lost in the dark fog between worlds when you ended up in the ashy halls of the lab. _Why not check it out_ , you thought to yourself, _what are the chances of the Demogorgon actually being here?_

Big fucking chance, you dumb fucking idiot.

You had been looking through old hazmat suits when you heard the ear-piercing cry of the pale, fleshy denizen that ruled over the Hawkins Laboratory. Despite the fact that it _shouldn't_ be able to harm you outside of a trial, you didn't want to give it the chance to prove that it could so otherwise.

So you bolted before it could get its hands on you.

It found you, obviously, by what means you had no fucking clue. It didn't have a nose, or ears, or _anything_ really but a mouth. Maybe it scented the air with its tongue, like a snake.

But this wasn't a lesson on physiology.

This was you getting chased down over the span of five, six or so realms.

It was _pissed._

Eventually, you had lost the damn thing in Silent Hill. Gods, if that was what the Survivors went through in every waking moment, you didn't envy them yourself. Hell, you were sure _any_ of the Killers would have been terrified for their lives, given they were in the same situation.

Now.

Where were you?

Your breath was white, even if you didn't really need to _breathe_ in this place. The ground beneath you was white, soft, and crunchy at the same time. Small grey and white flurries danced around you as they would in Silent Hill or the Hawkins Lab, but they were different. They made you feel colder. Lonelier. The air around you seemed so loud, but quiet at the same time.

Had you ever felt so isolated, simply by the weather around you?

You couldn't remember.

You're almost in awe, reaching a hand up to let the flurries kiss your fingertips. 

They were cold, too.

There were so many realms, so many worlds of nature and concrete, but none quite wore at you like this. Sure, the Red Woods had its rain, but you hardly registered the wet feeling on your skin. Maybe it was because you were overheated from outrunning a literal monster, or perhaps it was because you had never felt so sentimentally moved by the god damn weather.

"Never seen snow before?"

A small startled noise comes from you as you lower your eyes from the grey-white skies, finding a female figure standing a little ways from you, hands tucked into the larger pocket on the front of her hooded jacket.

One of the...Legion, right?

That means you must be in Ormond.

Your hand lowers to your side as the two of you stare at each other. Rather, you stare back at her mask- You weren't really sure where her eyes were.

She tilts her head to the side.

"...Who're you? Never seen _you_ in a trial before!"

"Oh, I'm not...I'm not a survivor."

You were confused by her question. How had she not heard of you? Sure, new Killers were bound to not know everything right away, but the Legion was by no means _new_ to the Entity's dimension. Surely, she had to of heard of you. Or maybe there was something that simply caused others to forget who you were.

She makes a noise and takes her hands out of her pocket, one of them reaching up to play with the end of her pink hair.

There was a way to remember which Legion member was which, right? Gah, but you never bothered to wire your brain to recall information like that. The Survivors themselves often could tell just by the grunts and frustrated noises each of the members made.

"No, that can't be right. You're definitely not a Killer, you're not...big enough."

"You're not that much bigger than I am?"

She makes a gleeful little sound, akin to a giggle, but more clipped than what should have come naturally.

"Hey, we're way stronger than we look."

You don't miss the way she emphasizes _we_ there.

Maybe it was a union thing- strength in numbers.

Though you had your doubts.

There were whispers by the campfire, from Survivors who had come fresh from a trial with the Legion. Talking about how Legion knew the weaknesses of individual Survivors, even if they had never been pitted against them before. That the Legion may not look so monstrous like other Killers but on a mental, _emotional_ level? It was like they all thought alike, spoke alike, _acted and moved_ alike.

Like they were all the same, single mind when they were in trials.

But you wouldn't know that personally.

"Uh huh..."

"But anyway! You didn't really answer the question. Who are you? What're you doing here?"

For someone who spoke so cheerfully and careless, she was more observant than she looked.

"I'm (F/n) and I...the Demogorgon was after me and I shook the creep off my tail and ended up here without, uh, without realizing. Where I was."

Oh god, you were putting your foot in your mouth.

Most likely because the Legion _despised_ having people trespass. 

Any of the Legion.

Especially their "Leader".

A long silence passes between you before you move your foot back in uncertainty.

"I can...I can just go-"

"No. Give it a minute."

You swallow, tearing your eyes away to peer at the ground instead. Her response put you on edge. Give what a minute? Was she thinking about killing you? _Could_ she kill you? Oh God. Oh Entity. Whatever higher-being is listening-

"If you're not a survivor...Or a Killer...That means you don't have to follow the rules, right?"

"Uhm, rules...?"

"Yeah! Killers aren't allowed by the Survivor's campfire, Survivors aren't allowed to have weapons outside of a trial, neither can hurt each other outside of a trial- that kind of stuff!"

That wasn't really something you thought about before, but that sounded like it made sense. You think?

"I don't...I don't know? I've never really tried to arm myself but I've hung out by the fire before..."

"Great! Then you should be able to take this!"

Before you can blink, she's covered the short distance between the two of you, so close you could smell a distinct smell coming off of her- minty, ashy and something old. Dust maybe? Books? Blood? 

She presses her knife in your hand, and she's absolutely delighted by how it doesn't singe your hand when you wrap your fingers around the hilt. You stare at her mask in uncertainty before she grabs back the blade and takes you by the wrist. And then, she's dragging you forward.

Through the dancing, tiny bodies of snow, you can see the looming body of old Mount Ormond.

"We need to show you to the rest of Legion!"


	2. II : And Bring You Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Susie brings Reader into Mount Ormond, and unpleasant exchanges are had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I loved all the feedback from the last chapter! Though I was going about making this fic omegaverse, I think I'm going to leave it as is. But don't worry, I do have a fic in the works for Omegaverse DbD!  
> Other than that, enjoy!

As much as you would like to fight against the smallest of the Legion, you don't.

You probably wouldn't be able to break her hold.

So the two of you find yourselves in the heart of Mount Ormond, standing inside the lodge where the firepit roars with the life of a snapping and popping fire.

But it looks like it was just the two of you there. You swallow nervously as she releases you and sits over by the firepit, lounging on the cushioned seating before tilting her head back at you.

"Come sit. The rest of us are out, but we won't be gone long."

Why exactly were you entertaining her anyways? Maybe you could just book it- run away from her until losing her in another realm. But she wasn't as stupid as the Demogorgon. Plus, with the rest of the League, you were bound to run into them eventually, right? What would be in the point of running?

...Had you always been paranoid?

Quietly, you sit at the ring around the firepit, a few spots away from Susie to keep yourself comfortable. No doubt, she could close the gap between you in a matter of seconds, but it's more having the physical distance that comforted you.

"So, _(F/n)_ , let's get to know each other! How long've you been here?"

"Oh, uhm..."

The lack of actual time, or being able to tell time, made the question tricky to answer. But you had been here longer than a lot of the Killers and Survivors. A _lot_ longer. Or that's what you think. No one could tell with the way the Entity twisted time and reality to its own rules.

"Longer than you. Longer than, ah, than most."

"How long?"

"Well I...I've been here longer than the Nurse or the Wraith. Or the Trapper. _I think..._ "

"You think?"

There, you turn to face away from her, diverting your eyes to linger on the tall reaching bodies of flames in the firepit. Fingers fiddle with the edge of your sweater and you close your eyes as your shoulders tense up in unease.

"I don't know. I have trouble remembering things. I've stopped bothering to remember names and faces."

She hums inquisitively, tilting her head and allowing some of her pink hair to spill from its place in her hood.

"What about before? Before you came here?"

Your hands curl into fists, hidden beneath the long sleeves of your sweater as you stare at the ground. How could you respond to that question if even you didn't know the answer to it?

"...I don't know. I don't remember."

"What? No, you can't not remember that! Even the oldest Killers remember that! Sally remembers! Philip! We'd be willing to bet even the Trapper can remember. Maybe not everything, but a Killer never forgets where they come from. What made them who they are."

"But I'm not a Killer! I'm not like...!"

You start unintentionally raising your voice, catching yourself in a cold sweat as your eyes dart over to the Legion member before looking away and falling quiet again.

"...I'm not like you. Or the Survivors. I'm not like _anyone_ here."

After a tense few moments of silence, the woman makes a noise and stretches her legs out. It carries for a few minutes like she was trying to think of a way to steer the conversation away from the point where it had become uncomfortable.

"Alright. Back to the other question. You've been here a _long_ time. Just how long?"

"I've been here long enough to see people come and go."

"You mean there are others? What happened to them?"

"It is...hard to say. Sometimes Survivor's hope gets snuffed out and the Entity...I don't know. I don't know what it does to them. Some of them were pretty spirited though. So...I don't know, maybe they found a way out. But the Killers? I can't say. Maybe the Entity gets tired of them. Or they fulfill their purpose? I really don't know. All I know is that they were here once, and now they're gone. No one here now would have known them, though, Not the Trapper or his survivor. There was a long time before there were other people...Killer _or_ Survivor."

"What about the Blight?"

You whip around to see someone standing on the second landing of the stairs. They were taller, definitively more masculine by how they spoke, and how their body was filled out.

"Welcome back!" The pink-haired woman chirps as she stands to her feet, the other Legion member stalking down the stairs to join the two of you on the ground floor. They reached for each other, holding the back of each other's heads as they touched their foreheads together. You watched in awkward silence as they stayed like that for a few moments before breaking apart.

The male of the two turns to you.

He has a black cloth mask, adorned with a white skull fitted properly into the hood.

"Tell us about the Blight."

"What, no, I..."

You stand and your body is suddenly cold, despite the heat coming from the gated fire just a few feet away from you. He doesn't step towards you, but his presence alone is enough to intimidate you into shrinking into yourself.

"I don't...I don't know anything about him."

"See, that just doesn't make sense to us." He rejects your statement, waving a hand to dismiss it like a casual conversation.

But Talbot Grimes was not a casual topic to be talking about. 

Just thinking about him made your insides feel heavy. Was it fear that weighed you down, or a guilt of some kind? What would you be guilty of, anyhow? 

The male Legion finally takes a step forward, and you back up until your ankles hit the other sit of the sitting circle. You glance down to correct your step for just a moment, but when you look back up he's mere inches from you. The pink-haired Legion hasn't moved at all, but she doesn't look at all bothered by how her partner was encrouching your space.

"If you've been here longer than _any of us,_ than there's a reason for that, right? Why you aren't gone, like the rest?"

He reached a gloved hand to press his index and thumbs hard into your cheeks, making you choke back a whimper as he makes your lips pout, before tilting your head up to where his eyes should be behind that constrasting mask.

"Tell us, (F/n), who are you? What makes you so special?"

His question, despite how quietly and low it was spoken, only proved a prior rumor. The Legion were all connected, in some weird paranormal way.

He knew your name when he shouldn't have.

His grip on your cheeks lessened to allow you to speak, in a muffled manner.

"I dun'o, I dun'...."

"Enough with the intimidation tactics, Joey."

It's a woman's voice, and your attempt to look at the source is stopped at how "Joey" holds your head in place. He doesn't look, either, but that doesn't stop him from addressing the new presence.

"We're not going to get anything from them by making _friends."_

"Worked well enough with us for Frank, didn't it?"

 _Joey_ finally looks to the side, towards one of the open doors, releasing your head and allowing you to stumble a few steps away. You finally look to see to see the other female counterpart of the Legion, the one who most resembles their leader. She has her hands shoved into the pockets of her jacket as she and Joey stared each other down. You were unsure of what was occuring when they made an occasional noise, like a grunt or a huff, or an amused _hrmph_.

Joey finally relents, his aggressive posture loosening as he mumbles something along the lines of _"no don't tell him that"_ before silently sitting at the fire circle.

"Sorry about that. We're not used to visitors. We knew Susie was bringing someone in, so we couldn't help but listen in."

Susie must be the one with the pink hair.

So they were communicating, what, telepathically, or something?

"We've been...having trouble with the Blight. We've caught him lurking around here a couple times after a few of us have gone off to a trial. No one wants to talk about him, but we just want to take precautions." The not-Susie female spoke, walking further into the lodge until she was standing at the other side of the firepit, opposite to you, next to Joey.

You stare her down, still unnerved from the prior treatment of her companion. It was clear to see your discomfort, so the woman rolls her shoulders and takes a seat.

"C'mon, make yourself comfortable. We haven't even had proper introductions yet."

Looking between the three of them, and watching Susie scury over to the woman's side and curl up into her, you reluctantly lower yourself back into a seat.

"Susie's the one who brought you here. Joey is your _oh-so_ charming interogator."

" ** _And this is Julie_**." Both Susie and Joey say in unison, surprising you into laughing a little nervously.

"Aww, you're so cute! Do that again!" Susie demands, nearly bouncing in her seat from the sound until Julie pats the top of her head to get her to sit still.

Well, they already knew your name, it seemed.

One of them clears their throat.

"Listen, we...would appreciate it if you could tell us anything about him. The Blight. He's only started showing up recently, but there's evidence that shows he's been here awhile."

"He's been here a long time; that much is right. But he's always been around you. He just hasn't let himself be seen."

There's a disgruntled noise from one of them, letting you know that bit of information disquieted them.

"But why's he skulking around here _now?_ Couldn't he have just stayed wherever the hell he crammed himself?"

You swallow, lowering your head to look at your hands as you twisted your fingers together, playing with them.

"There's a reason the people don't talk about him."

" _Why?"_

"They're _scared._ " You spit out hurriedly, sucking in air as you look back at the trio in uncertaintly, waiting to see what their reactions were.

But all you get is a few snickers and a giggle.

"Of course the Survivors are scared of him! He's a Killer, hun!" Susie points out, and you shake your head, falling quiet and causing an uneasy tension to settle in the other three.

"...I'm not talking about the Survivors."

"What? What're you saying?"

The three of them look at one another, probably communicating with one another without your knowing of what words were being exchanged. Joey's the one to break the silence after a handful minutes of uninterupted silence.

"The Killers? The _Killers_ are scared of him? Why?" He asks, voice light almost in disbelief, but you can tell he's a little rattled at the idea that there was something for the Killers to be scared of.

Beside the Entity.

But you curl your fingers together tighter, nailed bitting into the flesh of your hands as you tighten your lips.

"I can't-"

"You have to!"

It's Julie who gets up this time, making you flinch at her volume. Her once friendly, casual presence turned menacing at her demanding tone.

"If he can- If he can hurt us...can he hurt us? Why won't the others tell us anything?!"

She's on you in the next moment, dragging you to your feet by pulling you up by your sweater. You're shaking, hands gripping her wrists as she looms over you, and you can hear her ragged breathing behind her mask.

"You have to tell us! We won't let him hurt us!"

Black spines break through the skin of your hands, piercing through cloth, then flesh and muscle. Julie cries out, lowering you so your heels touch the ground again, but she's unable to release you.

Images and sounds flash in her mind and yours.

_Horrible screams, a **Killer's** screams. It was Herman, strapped to a table, being subjected to painful, inhuman treatments over and over again._

_There's a feeling of helplessness from the point of view this was being seen from._

_There stood the Blight, Talbot Grimes, leering over the Doctor as he injected another sample into him._

_Herman cried from help, from God, the Entity, to whoever was listening._

_But whoever was listening didn't know how to help._

The memories blurred, and suddenly you were being exposed to Julie's own memories.

_Susie's scared cries, as she was being grabbed._

_Frank stabbed someone, and then, there was blood on **her** hands. _

_Panic._

_Cold, helpless panic._

_Struggling to dig through the cold, frozen ground to bury the body._

_And then, when they walked through the fog, their minds had melted together._

_They were together._

The black spikes retract from your skin, leaving black veins spreading across your skin and turning the shaking flesh black. Julie stared on numbly while Joey and Susie called out in worry.

What was that?

You had tapped into her brain, digging up memories she had long since forgotten since coming to this place. But what were those other memories? The ones of the Doctor being tortured by the Blight? Had you been an onlooker to what had been happening? Why didn't you stop him? Was that why the others were scared of him?

...How did you do that?

Without thinking twice, you bolt over it, vaulting over a windowsill as the others curse and hurry to Julie's side. Upon inspecting her hand, the areas where your spines had pierced her skin were oozing blood, darkened with a black liquid shimmering with golden, orange-yellow flecks.

...

_Who the hell are you, (F/n)?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah hi how come no one else is talking about the fact that Blight canonically experimented on the other Killers? In Tome I, it mentions that Talbot has encountered hundreds, maybe thousands of survivors, but has also experimented on Killers. I headcanon that he only experimented on the earlier Killers, like the Hag, Wraith, Trapper, Nurse, and Huntress. But canonically, the Doctor is the only Killer mentioned by NAME to have been experimented on by Blight.
> 
> On another note, how are y'all liking Reader? What do you think she is exactly? Lemme know your thoughts/theories!
> 
> Anyways, thanks for reading! Catch y'all next time!
> 
> (Pssst you can also find me at fansandanime.tumblr.com!)

**Author's Note:**

> /Susie has successfully captured a Wild Reader!/  
> So this is the first chapter of a series with the experimental role I have for the Reader. Let me know what you think! Anyways, catch y'all later!
> 
> (Bonus Note:  
> Me: I should make it Omegaverse  
> Also Me: No, you shouldn't  
> Me: But-- )


End file.
